


Exit Wounds

by PunkPinkPower



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Ninja Storm
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Family Drama, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkPinkPower/pseuds/PunkPinkPower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  Hunter stumbles across an injured man in the woods, and soon discovers the man doesn’t know who he is.  Well, he was looking for a hobby, after all.  Hunter/Cam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story basically hinges on the premise that Hunter and his family were never ninja’s, allowing the Bradley’s to live normal non-ninjay lives. I’ve stolen Dr. Huang from Law and Order SVU, even though he wasn’t a medical doctor in that show, he was the one I knew the best. Oh, and I gave Hunter a sister, cause I had to have more female character since Tori and Leanne don’t play a role in this story. And Hunters mom should totally be played by Diane Lane. That’s about all.

He drove towards the beach with no real intention of doing anything once he got there, but it was a destination, and that was a good thing to have. 

Driving aimlessly unsettled Hunter, but he hated going straight home after working all day, and he didn’t want to go to the track without Blake or his dad. His only other option was to go help his mom and sister with the seal release, but the closer he got to the marine sanctuary, the more he didn’t want to go. 

So he turned off three exits early, heading into a small deserted cove that bordered the Blue Bay Sentential Forest, and he figured maybe a good jog through the surf and into the thick musky forest might clear his head. 

It had been a long day. He had overslept, and he’d been trying to catch up ever since. He’d gotten to the shop late, but his boss hadn’t cared all that much so long as Hunter got his work done. That had proved to be another problem entirely. Being a mechanic was a lot of guess work, and his boss Rob never seemed to remember that. It was analysis and planning and trial and error, all of which Hunter had to do. Rob was a more of a marketer, more of a designer and a conceptual idea man. He had opened up the only non-factory owned custom bike shop in Blue Bay Harbor six years ago, and business had poured in. Rob hired Hunter to do the engine overhauls, and he’d been working there since he graduated high school. 

Four years ago, Hunter reminded himself. He’d been working the same job for four years now, one with no real chance of promotion or any kind of job satisfaction. The hours were less than perfect, and while the pay was good, and the access to customization equipment for his and Blake’s bikes that he would not otherwise have suited them fine, Hunter was bored. 

Bored, and lonely, he admitted to himself with a frustrated sigh. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t have any friends, per say. It was just that it seemed all his friends were moving on with their lives. The few who hadn’t gone on to college were getting married and having kids. It didn’t leave very much time for socializing. 

And then there was the shop, of course. The only other people who worked there, Jesse and Darcell, were cynical and socially inept, respectively. Jesse couldn’t take a joke, and he constantly blasted NPR radio while he worked on anything, making conversation difficult. Darcell was a veritable bike building maniac, but bikes were his only real friends, and Hunter had heard him have deep personal conversations with an alternator more than once. They weren’t very good company on a good day, and on a day like today, with orders backed up, customers calling in to complain about the wait, and Rob threatening to take the discounts out of his pay, Jesse and Darcell’s company hadn’t meant much. 

Hunter tried to be friendly, he really did. But there was only so much a personal with a limited social circle could take from his peers. 

Hunter pulled up into the small sandy parking lot and hopped out of his truck. The sea air was refreshing on his face, which he knew was probably covered in grime. So he took off his jeans and changed into a pair of sport shorts from the back seat. He stretched up against his truck while he watched the golden sun get lower in the sky. It would hit the water in two or three hours, and Hunter figured the green flash would be his sign that he should turn back. 

If he could last that long, of course. It was another consequence of the life choices he’d made, he supposed. He has run marathons while he was in high school, but running was one of his hobbies that, without any real structure to make him practice, had fallen by the wayside. He’d only kept up motocross riding because of Blake and his dad. And he hadn’t picked up a new hobby in years. Drinking alone, maybe, if that counted. 

At least he didn’t have the stomach that betrayed him yet, like his dad. Charlie Bradley didn’t have a beer belly, exactly, but that was only because Hunters younger sister Krista had enrolled her parents in yoga classes with her last year. It had barely saved his dad, but Hunter and Blake had declined to attend when Krista had handed them what she called “yoga pants”. The too tight spandex turned them off from it, or really any activity requiring spandex, completely. 

Feeling slightly more limber, Hunter turned his overwrought mind to running. IT would feel good to get the wind in his face, to work up a sweat and work muscles long dormant. First, though, he headed for the sea line. He waded out a short ways, the cold water hitting his legs waking him up and prickling at the same time, and he took some and splashed it on his sweaty, grimy face. It felt cool, and he enjoyed the feeling of sharp awareness it gave him. 

It didn’t make him feel much better. He tried not to sigh while he rinsed off his arms in the salt water. 

It bothered him, he supposed, his lack of progress in life. It wasn’t that he felt unhappy, it was just that… he was so bored. Blake would be graduating from college in the spring, and Krista would be starting it next fall. They both had friends and activities and hobbies. Hunter had a crap job, and he still lived over his parents garage in the in-law quarters. 

This was the third time today he’d thought about this. Eighth time that week. It was really starting to grate on him, but he tried not to let it show. And, if he thought about it, Hunter had no idea what he would do to shake up the status quo. Go to college? Not likely. A new job, maybe, but he just wasn’t qualified for much, and he loathed food service. 

He just missed getting up in the morning because he was excited about something, he knew. Routines weren’t Hunters thing, but his family was quite the opposite. His parents were very structured people, and his brother and sister enjoyed filling their time with activities and hobbies that required structured practice. Hunter had always been the one who preferred spontaneity, adventure, the unpredictable. He liked being surprised. 

Maybe he could save enough money to go on a vacation somewhere, he thought. Take off for Europe and go have a real adventure. As much as Hunter Bradley hated to admit it, he’d never really had one. His life, wondrous though it was, had been unpleasantly ordinary. 

He stood there in the cold for a moment more and then tried to shake off the feeling of somberness that had settled around him. He was Hunter Bradley, after all. He could shake anything off if he wanted to. He could disconnect, could reinvigorate and start again. It wasn’t so hard. So he turned from the water and started off jogging at a brisk pace along the coast, trying not to think about his life, or his longing for a real adventure. 

His legs were dry by the time he reached the large rock face, which was covered in the long roots of trees from up above. He was focused on his breathing, on the way his feet hit the sand in the foot shaped sandals Krista had gotten him, and trying not to think about how heavily he was already sweating. 

He was hitting the tree line when he stopped running abruptly. His instincts had kicked in somewhere between the rock face and the tree line, and he knew something was wrong. He knew it before he saw anything, but he couldn’t explain how. 

Hunter looked around, his heart racing, trying to catch his breath from the short jog. He tried to decide what exactly his mind thought was wrong when he saw it; a flash of black moving just behind a tree. 

Falling, not moving, he realized. He was moving before he knew it, racing to the fallen mans side, but he heard the thump as the man hit the ground. Hard. 

The figure was clutching his side, dressed in what could have been all black clothes if it weren’t for the large tears in the fabric and the blood they were soaked it. He was bleeding, Hunter realized with some panic. In the short time it took Hunter to reach him, a pool of blood had already started to form around the young man’s head. 

Hunter reached out, scooped the man up as gently as he could, and then shook him. “Hey!” He shouted. 

The man’s face was contorted in pain, but he mumbled something that sounded like “help them.”

“What happened to you?” Hunter asked, trying to assess the man’s wounds. He had blood all down the side of his face, but Hunter couldn’t see where it was coming from. “Who did this to you?” 

“Help,” the man said again, this time softer than before. “We… have to stop them…” 

“Stop who?” Hunter asked. He looked around to make sure the man was alone, and saw no one around. Whoever this guy had been with or been running from, he’d lost them. 

“I can’t…” he whispered. “They don’t…” 

The man’s head went limp in Hunter’s arms, and his face relaxed. Hunter’s heart beat was pounding in his ears, making it impossible for him to tell if the young man had just died or not. He didn’t wait to find out. He swatted the man’s face, trying to get him to wake back up, but nothing happened. “Hey! You have to stay with me! I’m gonna call for help. Stay with me!” 

Hunter laid the guy back down on the ground, and pulled his hand away from the man’s head to reach into his pocket for his cell phone. He stopped when he realized is hand was covered in blood, and before grabbing his phone he turned the man’s head towards him to reveal a deep, large gash on the right side of his head. The scalp was mangled, the hair red from blood, and Hunter couldn’t tell if he was seeing bone or not. 

He’d never seen so much blood in all his life. Not even when Blake had fallen off his bike when they were kids and torn open his knee. 

Panicking, Hunter hailed the man up into his arms and began running back towards his truck. If he called 911, the young man would probably die before the ambulance arrived. Already unconscious, Hunter knew he didn’t have much time. If he floored it, they might be able to make Blue Bay Memorial in 15 minutes. 

They made it back to his car in less than two, and Hunter hauled open the passenger door, careful not to bang the man’s already injured head against the truck. He shoved the man’s unconscious form in as best he could, buckled him, and grabbed a towel from the backseat to wrap around his head. “Don’t worry, man. It’s gonna be okay.” He told the unconscious figure, but it was more for his own racing mind than the man who couldn’t hear him. 

He jumped the hood of the truck to his door, started the ignition, and pulled out of the parking lot in record time. 

His lungs were burning, his legs hurt, and he was covered in this unknown mans blood. Despite the situation, it was nice to know he could still push himself in a time of need. And carrying double his weight, at that. But with the man bleeding in the seat next to him, it was hard to pat himself on the back for his own heroic actions just yet. He could congratulate himself if they made it to the hospital in one piece. 

As he drove, he reached over to nudge the unconscious man and check that air was still coming out of his nose. 

“Come on, man. Don’t die on me, here. It’s gonna be okay, you just gotta hang on.” Hunter urged, hoping that somehow, the young man could hear him. 

The boy slumped down even further, looking beaten, utterly defeated, and helpless. Blood trickled down his forehead into his open mouth, and Hunter reached over to wipe it away as best he could. He twisted the man’s head a little so the blood might run off somewhere else, and Hunter once again saw the large, gaping head wound. 

And he thought he’d been having a hard day.


	2. 2

“Help me!” 

Hunter swerved into the emergency ambulance lane, honking his horn and shouting out the window. Two attendees rushed to his truck, and Hunter only barely remembered to put it in park before he jumped out. 

“What happened?” a female nurse asked as she undid the seatbelt from the passenger side. “I need a stretcher here!” She called over her shoulder.

“I don’t know. I just found him on the beach,” Hunter told them, wanting to help but unsure how. 

“How long has he been unconscious?” the male paramedic was taking Cam’s pulse as a stretcher wheeled up behind them, and he too shouted out commands to the people coming before Hunter answered him. “We need a neck stabilizer and a line, quick!” 

“Fifteen, twenty minutes tops,” Hunter called out. 

“What’s his name? Do you know his blood type?” A woman asked as they began wheeling the unidentified man into the ER. 

“No.” Hunter answered, trailing along. “I don’t know. I don’t know either one.” 

“Okay we’ve got a John Doe with massive head lacerations, possible spinal trauma, and likely internal bleeding.” The woman was calling to everyone around her, and Hunter kept walking with them because he didn’t know what else to do. “Line him, get me two bags of plasma and page Dr. Huang in trauma.” 

At the same time, the male orderly was speaking to the unconscious man, shining a light in his eyes, and Hunter watched for any signs of life. “Sir? Can you hear me sir? Non responsive pupils!” 

If they weren’t already moving quickly enough that seemed to make everyone start jogging around him, and he started to quicken his pace to keep up but before he knew it there was a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry sir, you’re going to have to wait here. Can you tell me if he has any family that can be contacted or if he has any known allergies?” 

Hunter shook his head, dazed. “No, I… I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about him.” 

She nodded quickly, and the hand on his chest moved to his arm to steer him towards the ER’s waiting area. “Do you know if he was attacked?” 

Hunter thought back to what the man had said before he’d passed out. “He said, ‘Help them,’ and ‘stop them,’” Hunter told her, and she seemed to assume that meant yes. 

“I’m going to alert the police so they can make a report. If you could please wait here to tell them what you saw, and then you can go sir.” 

She turned to start heading back into the double doors she had stopped Hunter from entering. “Is he going to be okay?” Hunter called after her. 

Without turning, she called back “We’ll do everything we can for him, sir.” And she disappeared into the restricted area. 

Left alone, Hunter looked around him at the waiting room. No one was even looking at him, frazzled, covered in someone else’s blood, inexplicably teary eyed. He was glad, but he also suddenly felt very alone. He felt more alone than he had back on the beach, wading out into the water and wishing for adventure. 

For spontaneity, Hunter mused, both disgusted and amused with himself. He hadn’t expected a dying man to fall into his lap, but he supposed he ought to have been more specific when asking for change from the universe. 

There was nothing he could do but wait, though, and so he sat down in one of the beige chairs and waited for the police. 

~***~

“Sir?” 

Hunter started. He was staring up at a woman in scrubs, who was looking at him sadly. He sat up, trying to get his bearings. White walls, lots of beige chairs… oh. Right. The hospital. Had he fallen asleep? 

“Sorry sir, but we need you to move your car from the emergency lane.” 

Hunter rubbed his face, and hoped he didn’t sound as tired as he felt when he said, “Yeah, sorry, of course.”

She smiled at him sympathetically, as though she was used to this sort of behavior. 

Hunter got up and headed back towards the emergency doors, wondering how long he’d been asleep. It couldn’t have been too long, because it was still light out. His truck was haphazardly parked in the emergency ambulance lane, the passenger door still wide open, keys in the ignition. Hunter guffawed. He hated to think how crazy he might have acted if the injured person he had transported was someone he actually knew. 

He got into the car and turned the keys, but when he went to shift he saw it. It was disconcerting on a level he had not prepared for, but he supposed everything left a mark somewhere. The man’s blood had soaked his seats, turning the once brown interior a dark, muggy red. Hunter wondered how he was ever going to get that to come out. There was no way baking soda and vinegar would work on that. 

He tried not to think about it as he moved his car into the visitor parking lot. As he was shutting off the ignition, this time making sure to take the keys out with him, he caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. He raised a hand to his own face, astonished. Blood was smeared across his cheek, where the man’s head had rested as Hunter carried him. Hunter looked down to find his shirt covered, and his hands and arms were still red. 

He tried not to be sick. 

It didn’t work. Hunter opened the door to his truck and wretched pathetically, coughing up what was left of that afternoon’s lunch. When he stood back up and wiped off his mouth, he noticed the orderly from inside coming towards him. He shut the door to the car. 

Her nametag said ‘Trish’, and with that same sympathetic smile she informed him that the police had finally arrived. 

~***~

“And you didn’t see who attacked him?” The detective asked. 

He shook his head, sipping the glass of water Trish had given him before he answered. “No. He just came out of the tree line all beat up.” 

“Did he say anything to you? His name maybe?” The second detective asked. 

“No. I didn’t think to ask before he passed out. He just asked for help.” Hunter said. The detectives nodded pensively at him. 

“Okay sir, we’re going to look into the crime scene, and we’ll direct our investigation from there.” The first detective put away his pad and pen, and Hunter nodded. “Is there a number we can contact you at if we have any more questions?” 

Hunter gave them his cell, and they were gone as quickly as they’d come. He finally remembered to check the time. The hospital clock read 7:30. With a sigh, Hunter rubbed his eyes, gulped down the rest of the water, and pulled out his phone. 

His mom answered in a sing song. “There you are, Hunter. Blake was just about to call your portion of dinner if you were late.” 

In the background, he heard Blake call out “Ten minutes and counting bro!” 

Despite everything, it made Hunter smile. “Try to save some from the ravenous animal, will you? I’m gonna be a little while yet.” 

“Where are you?” Casey Bradley asked, and this time there was concern in her voice. Possibly at how tired Hunter sounded. 

“Don’t freak out. I’m at the hospital, but I’m not hurt.” Hunter said quickly to supersede her questions. 

“What happened?” She asked anyway, and he heard the chatter of the rest of his family die down in the background. 

“I uh…” Hunter paused, trying to think of what to say. It didn’t help that his throat was still burning from throwing up, and he kept trying not to stare at his red hands. “I was jogging and I ran into this guy. He was hurt pretty bad so, I brought him to the hospital. They think he was attacked. I had to talk to the police,” Hunter condensed the afternoon’s events into a few sentences. 

“Oh my,” his mother gasped through the phone, and he could see her with her nails to her lip, a worried look on her face. “Is everything okay?” 

Hunter nodded even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Well, I don’t know, they haven’t told me if he made it or not but uh, I’m gonna clean up and then head home, okay?” 

“Okay,” Casey agreed, and then, “Do you want your father to come pick you up?” 

“I’m not hurt, mom, its fine.” Hunter assured. A ride would probably be nice, but he had appearances to keep up. And younger siblings. “I’ll be home in a bit.” 

She told him to be careful before she let him hang up, and he put his phone away and headed to the bathroom. 

It took him the better part of a half hour to scrub the dried blood off his arms, out from under his nails, and off his face and neck. There was nothing that could be done about the shirt, but he couldn’t walk into the house looking like he had. He wondered how doctors ever felt clean after working around all that blood. 

When he was finished making himself semi presentable, he headed out of the bathroom and back through the waiting room to the exit. There was nothing else they needed from him now that he’d spoken to the detectives, so he saw no reason to stay. He was heading for the doors when he saw a man that appeared to be a doctor approaching him. 

“Mr. Bradley?” The doctor asked, and Hunter tried not to sigh. 

“That’s me,” he turned and answered, and the doctor extended a hand. 

“I’m Dr. Huang. You came in with our John Doe, right?” The doctor, a short Asian man who reminded Hunter eerily of the man he’d found, shook his hand lightly, and then clasped his hands in front of him. Hunter folded his arms uncomfortably. 

“Yes,” he answered. He almost held his breath when he asked, “did he make it?” 

Dr. Huang nodded. “He pulled through surgery just fine. He’s lucky you got him here in time. You saved his life.” 

Hunter nodded at that, relieved that it hadn’t all been for nothing. It wouldn’t help him sleep any better, but at least the guy would live. “Good,” he said, “I’m glad he’s going to be okay.” Hunter dropped his arms and turned to leave, but Dr. Huang reached out to lightly touch his arm. 

“He’s going to be coming out of the anesthesia in a few minutes. I’m sure he’d like to see you, say thank you.” Dr. Huang smiled in a small way, like he was uncertain of this fact. 

“Look, Doc,” Hunter shrugged. “I don’t even know the guy. I was just in the right place at the right time, that’s all.” 

“Yes, I know,” Dr. Huang agreed, but he looked down for a moment before looking back at Hunter in a beseeching sort of way. “He didn’t have any identification on him, and he’s never been a patient here before. There wasn’t any family we could call for him, and I think he’d really appreciate it if someone was there when he came to.” 

Hunter opened his mouth to object-- really, why would the guy want to see him? He probably wouldn’t even remember him --but Dr. Huang stopped him. 

“No one should wake up from that sort of trauma alone.” Dr. Huang insisted. 

Hunter let the air out of his objection, beaten. Because the doctor was right; Hunter would want someone to do the same for him. It wouldn’t take that much longer. “Let me just make a phone call.”


	3. 3

Someone was shining a bright light into his eyes. He felt groggy and dizzy, and he tried to squirm away from whoever was putting a flash light in his face, but he found he had a difficult time moving at all. His body felt limp. 

“He’s coming to now.” Someone above him said, and he tried to lift his head to see who it was. He couldn’t. “Sir, everything is alright. You’re going to be feeling a little groggy from anesthesia, but the feeling should pass in a few minutes. Can you tell me if you understand?” 

He blinked hard, trying to clear his throbbing head, and when he opened his eyes again he could see a little better. Things were still blurry, though. Somehow, he managed to get out the words, “Course I ‘nderstand. ‘m no stupid.” He became very frustrated very quickly by how difficult it was to move his mouth. 

“It’s alright now, take a few minutes to relax.” The person above him said. Then he spoke again, but he seemed to be talking to someone else. “You can come in now. He’ll be alert enough to speak in a few minutes.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, something red and grey entered his vision. And blonde, he realized, as his eyes started to focus. And pretty. 

Something must have happened, because in what seemed like only a second to him, everyone around him shifted into different positions, but now his vision was clearer. Not perfect, though. 

On his left, a short man with short dark hair in a white jacket was talking across him to the man on his right, a tall blonde who had a very strange shirt on and looked very tired. 

“…not unusual for people to drift in and out after a head injury. We’ll do some basic tests to make sure his cognitive functioning is intact while the police look into the attack.” Said the man in the white coat. 

Across from him, the blonde man was nodding. He looked down and raised his eyebrows for some reason, and then the doctor was looking back down at him too. 

“Welcome back, there. My name is Dr. Huang. How are you feeling?” He asked. 

He was finally able to lift his head, but it throbbed a bit, and he squinted at the doctor. He just couldn’t make him come completely into focus. “My head hurts.” 

Dr. Huang smiled. “That’s because you had a pretty nasty head wound, but we’ve patched you up.” 

He looked around again, and it hit him where he was. “I’m in a hospital?” 

Dr. Huang nodded. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said, placing a hand on his arm. “You were attacked, but you were very lucky. This man saved your life, and you’re going to be alright.” 

He looked over at the pretty man again, who waved. “Hi.” 

“Do I… know you?” He asked, suddenly feeling very uncertain. Of everything. 

The man shook his head. “Not really. I’m Hunter. I just wanted to, uh, make sure you were okay.” 

Hunter, he thought. Hunter. He said he didn’t know him, but he seemed so familiar… 

His head hurt again, and he groaned without meaning to. 

“Are you in very much pain?” Dr. Huang asked, checking some kind of machine next to the bed. 

“Feel like I’m dying.” He answered, and for some reason that made the Doctor smile. 

“I can assure you, that’s one thing you’re not going to do today. I’ll adjust your morphine to help with the pain as soon as we get some information from you. Can you tell me the year?” 

He tilted his head to glare at the man. Really? Question and answer session for morphine? It wasn’t like he was drug seeking, here. He was legitimately in pain. He played along anyway, though. “2003.” 

“Very good,” Dr. Huang marked something on a sheet of paper. “When we found you, you didn’t have any identification on you. Can you tell me your name?” 

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “I… what?” 

The Doctor exchanged a glance with Hunter. “I asked for your name.” 

He paused, uncertain. How could they not know his name? It… 

Panic ceased him. His name. What was his name? 

Why didn’t he know his name? 

“This is a joke,” he said, feeling far too vulnerable in the presence of these strangers. 

“Do you know your name?” Dr. Huang asked again, and there was concern in his voice and on his face now. 

“Of course I know my name!” He said, but he was annoyed to hear his voice crack. He froze, with both Hunter and the doctor looking at him expectantly, and he could produce nothing. After a long silence, he raised both tube-laden hands to his face and whispered. “Why don’t I know my name?” 

~***~

Hunter waited in the hallway, his back to the closed blinds of the room window. He had been shooed from the room when the man he had rescued had started crying and demanding to know what had been done to him. 

It was strange to Hunter that he wasn’t even really annoyed at having stayed for nothing at all, but instead he was worried about the man with no name. Was this usual for a head injury, like the doctor had said about the drifting in and out? Was the guy just confused from anesthesia and surgery? Or did he really not know who he was? 

Dr. Huang came out of the door with a nurse and closed it behind him. Hunter stood up from his place against the wall, expectantly. The doctor had wanted him to stay, and he was damn sure going to tell him what was going on now. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Hunter asked quietly. 

Dr. Huang sighed. “It’s called traumatic retrograde amnesia. He knows the year, right from left, and has a basic understanding of social norms and cognitive functioning, but he appears to have lost all autobiographical memories.” 

That sounded pretty bad to Hunter. “So he has no idea who he is?” 

“Not a clue,” Dr. Huang agreed. “He can’t tell me where he’s from, who his family is, where he lives, or even what his favorite food is. I’m going to prep him for an MRI to see if there’s been any permanent brain damage, but this does happen some times in cases like this.” 

“So, it might not be permanent? Is there any chance he’s going to remember?” Hunter asked, processing. 

“There’s just no way to tell,” Dr. Huang gave Hunter a sorrowful look. “In most cases, the subject will recover and eventually begin to recall things about their life. In severe cases, sufferers of traumatic amnesia never remember who they were prior to the event. In his case, he suffered a traumatic event, being attacked, and trauma to his head, the attack itself. It’s impossible to know how much of the amnesia is attributed to either one.” 

Hunter paused, thinking. The man he had rescued didn’t know who he was, and things were not as simple as they had been half an hour ago. The guy had no one in the world… save for Hunter. What had he gotten himself into here? “But it’s possible he could recover, right?”

“It’s possible, yes.” Dr. Huang scratched the back of his neck. 

“How long does that take?” Hunter wanted to know. 

“There’s just no way to know. In most cases, people suffering from amnesia have an identity and family who can help remind them of who they are, but…” Dr. Huang paused, and then sympathetically touched Hunters arm. “I’m sorry, Hunter. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.” 

Hunter shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s obviously not okay, but…” Hunter trailed off, but Dr. Huang nodded at him like he understood. 

A nurse came up and called Dr. Huang away, and he excused himself, leaving Hunter alone in the hallway. 

Hunter looked in through the window. The blinds were down, but he could just barely make out the man’s form from in between the cracks. He was lying with his head tilted back, his arms full of IVs and hook ups to monitors, his head bandaged heavily. He looked so incredibly alone… he was alone, Hunter knew. 

But he didn’t have to be. 

Hunter went back into the room, knowing he probably wasn’t supposed to but not really caring. He closed the door behind him. The man didn’t even look up. 

“What do you want?” He snarled from the bed. 

Hunter was a little taken aback. “Whoa. You always so nice?” 

This made the man look up. With a scowl, he said “I want to know how pleasant you’d be if you woke up alone, in a strange place, and didn’t know anything about yourself.” 

“You weren’t alone, actually,” Hunter pointed out. This did nothing to abate the man’s anger. Hunter went over and sat in the chair next to his bed. “Hey, you’re right. I’m sure you’re scared-”

“If you came in here to patronize me, you can go.” He said, but there was less venom in his voice this time. “I’m not a child.” 

Hunter didn’t comment on that. Instead, he said, “I just wanted you to know… its okay to be scared. Not that you are,” he added hastily when the man shot him a look. “Man, it’d only be fair if you were a little scared after what you put me through today!” 

This seemed to puzzle the man. “What?” 

Hunter sat up straighter, glad to finally have this guy’s attention in a non hostile way. “Well, yeah. There I was, jogging, and you come stumbling out of the forest, bleeding and half dead.”

The man contemplated this. “They said I was attacked. Did they find who attacked me?” 

Hunter shook his head. 

“What did you do? When you found me?” He asked, trying to sit up but failing. “Dang this bed.” 

“You want me to adjust it?” Hunter asked, trying to be helpful. 

The man eyed him suspiciously, but then said, “Sure.” 

Hunter picked up the control on the bed and gently started lifting it so he was sitting a little bit. He wasn’t sure how high to go, what with the head wound and all, but he figured they wouldn’t have left it there if they didn’t want him messing with it. When he finished, the man stared blankly at the bed control Hunter had sat back down next to him. 

Finally, he looked up and said, “so?” 

Hunter remembered he was supposed to be recounting the events of the day. He let that stop him from being annoyed at this guys apparent lack of ability to say thank you. “Well, uh, I picked you up and carried you to my truck and brought you here,” Hunter said, thinking what would be right to say. “It was pretty frightening, because you were unconscious and well, bleeding, and…” he trailed off, uncertain what else to say. Finally he settled for, “Trust me, it was an ordeal, okay?” 

The man didn’t miss a beat. “That was very brave of you. Are you a life guard, or something?”

“What? No.” Hunter answered, baffled. “I’m a mechanic.” 

The man nodded. Silence fell over them, and the man raised his hands back to his head. He rubbed his eyes. 

“Is your head hurting again? Do you want me to get the nurse?” Hunter asked. 

“No,” he said. “It’s just… I can’t see righ-correctly.” He caught himself in a strange correcting way, and continued. “Everything’s blurry and it’s not getting better.” 

“Well, you have to give it time.” Hunter consoled. 

The man dropped his hands exasperatedly. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

Hunter scowled. Again, no thanks whatsoever. “Actually, yeah. At home, with my family, eating dinner, that would be great. But hey, I just saved your life, so, shame on me.” 

The man sighed and looked away. “Then you should go. There’s no reason for you to be hanging out with an injured man who can’t remember who he is.”

Hunter pursed his lips. This hadn’t turned out like he’d expected it to at all. Few things did, of course, but he was hoping for at least the spark of a friendship. Instead, it seemed to have been a waste of his time, and his dinner at home was probably long gone by now. 

He stood, pushed in the chair and headed for the door. “Nice meeting you.” 

“Thank you,” the man said, just as Hunter was closing the door behind him, “For saving my life.” 

Well. How about that. Maybe it hadn’t been a waste of time, after all.


	4. 4

Hunter got out of bed that morning feeling excited. 

He wasn’t even entirely sure why. There was no reason he should even continue thinking about the man in the hospital, but he couldn’t help himself, and he already knew he was going to go back. It was his day off, and he hadn’t made any other plans. There was no way he would be able to spend the whole day in his apartment, not when there was something he wanted to do this much. 

His dad was making breakfast when he went into the main house from his loft apartment. Pineapple pancakes were sizzling on the stove, a stack sitting on the counter for the taking. Blake was already at the table, scarfing pancakes down with one hand and holding a racing magazine with the other. His mother was doing the dishes that had obviously resulted from the pancakes. 

“Morning,” Hunter said as he kissed his mom on the cheek, and then headed for the fridge. He pulled out a carton of orange juice and was about to drink straight from it when his mother pulled it away and poured some into a glass for him. 

“You’re in a hurry this morning,” she commented, sticking the orange juice back in the fridge. 

Hunter shrugged noncommittally. He drank his juice. 

“There are pancakes,” his father said, in an easy way. 

His parents didn’t like to question him too much about what he did or with who, but he could tell they had discussed the events of yesterdays afternoon and were wondering if he was okay. He didn’t want to confirm or deny much, but if they knew he was going back to the hospital to see the man he had rescued, they probably wouldn’t be pleased. 

_“It was very brave of you,” Casey had said, “but I’m glad it’s over now.”_

Hunter didn’t think it was, though. 

“Thanks, but I’m headed out.” Hunter said. He gave an absent minded Blake a fist-bump, set the glass on the kitchen island, and waved. “I’ll be back later!” 

He was out the door before his mother could ask any veiled questions, and he jumped in his truck and pulled away. 

Before he hit the hospital, he went to have his truck cleaned. The smell of dried blood and sand plagued his nose on the short drive to the car wash, and the attendant who took it from him gave him a wide eyed glance. 

“Should be just about an hour,” she said, glancing quickly at her paperwork. 

“My friend was in an accident,” Hunter supplied, and she nodded as though she wasn’t interested or was too scared to press it further, so he gave up. 

The car wash was right next to a Burger Town, so after it was finished he went through the drive-thru and ordered a chocolate milkshake. He would have to sneak it in, but surely the man would be in better spirits with a sugary treat in hand. 

The drive to the hospital took only a short time, and he left his windows down to continue drying out the freshly cleaned upholstery. The shake was just about at the right consistency when he pulled into the parking lot, and he hid it behind his back as he entered the hospital. He found his way to the room the man had been in last night easily enough. Only the person in it was not the man he had rescued but someone in a full body cast. 

Hunter frowned. This was probably a recovery room, and not a patient’s room. He wasn’t sure how to go about finding the man now, and he wasn’t sure about asking, as he was pretty sure he didn’t have visiting privileges. 

Trish, he thought. The nice nurse who had brought him the water from the day before. If she was working, perhaps she’d point him in the right direction without too much trouble. 

Hunter headed for the front desk, but he didn’t see her anywhere. Instead, an elderly woman with white, pointed glasses on the bottom of her nose beckoned him forward. 

Hunter hesitated, but then thought it might be worth a shot. 

“Can I help you?” She asked, and she sounded wholly unenthusiastic. 

“I’m looking for my friend’s room. He came in last night, head wound-”

“Name?” She asked, typing something into the computer. 

Hunter grinned sheepishly. “John Doe?” 

The woman--Janet, said her nametag--looked up, un-amused. “Look, young man-”

Hunter braced himself for a reprimand, but before it came Janet was interrupted by someone behind him. 

“Hunter!” Dr. Huang put a hand on his shoulder, and Hunter turned. “I didn’t expect to see you again.” 

Hunter watched Janet give Dr. Huang the stink eye before returning to her work. “I, uh, wanted to see how he was doing.” 

Dr. Huang glanced at the melting milk shake Hunter had unsuccessfully tried to hide behind his back. “You know, most people bring flowers.” 

Hunter shrugged, knowing it probably wasn’t okay, but Dr. Huang seemed pretty laid back. 

Dr. Huang grinned and said, “It’ll be good for him to have some company.” 

Hunter followed Dr. Huang to the man’s room, listening to Dr. Huang tell him, basically, that the tests had revealed nothing and the man seemed to be in a surly mood about it. Hunter kept himself from making a snarky remark about the man’s mood, and instead asked what Dr. Huang planned to do for him. 

“Well, that’s problematic.” Dr. Huang said as they got into an elevator. “We’re working on making sure all his major injuries are treated, and I’ve scheduled a neurologist and a hypnotherapist to see him, but it’s going to be touch and go. I’ve had him admitted to the hospital under the hate crimes statuette, so his care and treatment should all be provided for by the city.” Out of the elevator on level 7 and turning left, they were in a much quieter part of the hospital. 

“Hate crimes?” Hunter wondered, as casually as possible. 

Dr. Huang gave Hunter a conspiratorial grin. “Well, until the police have finished their investigation, who’s to say he wasn’t attacked because of his ethnicity?” 

Hunter decided he liked Dr. Huang. He was a pretty nice guy, and he liked making the system work for his patients, instead of against them. That sat well with Hunter immediately. 

Dr. Huang stopped at a room with a closed door, turned to Hunter and said, “Good luck.” 

Hunter watched Dr. Huang mark something on the chart that read “John Doe”, and then he walked down the hall to a nurse’s station. 

Hunter knocked on the door. 

There was no answer, so he went in anyway. The man was sitting up, head still bandaged, with less IV’s coming out of his arms then there had been last night. He had a pen and paper in his hands, and he was scribbling something down when he looked up expectantly. 

Hunter grinned at him, and held up the milkshake. “I swear, it was frozen when I got here.” He said as a greeting. 

The young man narrowed his eyes in suspicion--he seemed to be suspicious of everything Hunter did--and then looked up at Hunter. “What is it?” 

“Chocolate milkshake.” Hunter took the response as permission to enter the room, and he closed the door behind him. “Best there is.” 

The man took it from him, setting aside his paper and pen, and used the straw to stir around the melted concoction. He held it for a moment before glancing quickly at Hunter and then deciding to take a sip. 

Hunter just waited, watching the man with a wry sort of grin. Clearly, he didn’t think much of Hunter yet, but at least his first words to him today had not been angry ones. 

After a moment of swishing around the shake in his mouth, the man swallowed and starred at it in a very focused way. Finally, he looked up and said, “I think I prefer vanilla.” 

Hunter raised his eyebrows. “Really?” 

The man nodded. He continued staring at the shake, and finally he held it out to Hunter. “Thank you. Do you want it?”

Hunter grinned and took the shake back, taking a large gulp. “Vanilla, then. That’s one thing we know about you, at least.”

This remark made the man frown, and he picked up his pen and paper again. “What are you doing here?” 

“I was bringing you a milkshake,” Hunter repeated. He thought he saw the man roll his eyes. “I just thought it might make you feel better. How are you doing?”

“Fantastic.” He said sarcastically, and then he smacked the pen down and raised a hand to his eyes. “I’m sorry. Apparently, I’m a terribly rude person who lacks appropriate social skills, or so they tell me.” 

Hunter stifled his smile by taking another sip of the shake, and then said, “That sounds about right.” 

The man put his hand down to glare at Hunter pathetically. “I just… I don’t have any way of knowing if I’m behaving how I would normally behave, or if… if this is just me in a bad mood or… I don’t know. And my head hurts, and they can’t figure out why my vision is still all screwed up. And you don’t need to hear this,” he finished with a sigh, and he fiddled with the pen. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Hunter sat forward a little bit, trying to look sympathetic. “What’s the matter with your vision?” 

“I can’t see!” He shouted suddenly, flailing his arms about. “Everything is blurry, and I _know_ it shouldn’t be.” He said determinedly, and he crossed his arms. “But the doctor thinks it might be a side effect from the head injury and it will clear itself. _With time._ It’s just so frustrating.” 

“I bet.” Hunter agreed, thinking. “Can you see up close, though?” Hunter glanced at the pad and paper. 

The man nodded. “It’s easier, yes. And I’m apparently ambidextrous.” 

Hunter frowned. “What?” 

The man answered quickly, as though he had already said this to someone else. “It means I can write with both hands.” 

“Oh,” Hunter nodded. He had thought the man was still talking about his eyes, and he felt a little foolish. “So, you can see up close but not far away. Can I see your pad?” 

Again, the man seemed uneasy about letting it go, but he turned the page and passed it to Hunter. Hunter wrote down his name in big letters on the pad, and the turned it to the man. 

“Can you see this?” He asked, and the man squinted. 

“Hunter,” he read. Hunter stood up and moved a step back. 

“What about now?” He asked, and when the man nodded he stepped back again. “And now?” 

The man shook his head this time, and Hunter gauged about how far away he was from him. He passed him back the pad. 

“I’ll be right back,” Hunter said, grabbing the shake. 

“Where are you going?” The man wanted to know. 

Hunter waved him off, hoping he was right. “Wait here. Trust me!” 

As he went out the door, he heard the man reply with a snarky, “Yeah, cause I’m going anywhere.” 

Hunter rolled his eyes. 

~***~

It was twenty minutes or so before Hunter walked back into his room, and he looked up from his list, which he hadn’t managed to work on anymore anyway, to see him holding something new in his hand. 

The shake was gone, but Hunter sat down next to his bed with a small case. “Close your eyes,” Hunter commanded. He tried not to glare, but he felt like he couldn’t help it. 

“Why?” He wanted to know. 

Hunter gave him a look. “Just do it.” 

With a sigh, he did. He heard Hunter open the case and pull something out, and then he flinched when he felt Hunters hand graze his face. He lifted his hand to bat him away, but then he remembered Hunter’s earlier ridiculous request. Trust me. 

He tried to be still, and then, “Open ‘em.” 

He opened his eyes, and raised his hands to feel the weight resting on his nose and ears and adjust it. He blinked a couple of times, and then looked over at Hunter’s face which was… far more in focus that it had ever been. 

Hunter raised his eyebrows. “Better?”

He looked around the room, and then down at his list. He picked up his pen and wrote ‘glasses’, before giving Hunter what he hoped was a thankful smile. “Apparently, I wear glasses.” Why hadn’t he thought of that? 

“I’m not sure they’re the right prescription. My dad wears contacts, and glasses sometimes. Gift shop didn’t have a large supply, but I bet Dr. Huang can tell better what you need, or find someone who can.” Hunter told him, closing the glasses case and setting it on the bedside table. 

“Thank you.” He said, adjusting the glasses again. 

Hunter nodded, satisfied, and he turned his attention to the list resting in his lap. “What are you working on?” 

He hesitated, because what business was it of Hunter’s? But then he realized that Hunter had figured out something about him that he hadn’t known already--two things, if he counted his preference for vanilla--and he thought that maybe Hunter might be able to help him after all. 

“I’m making a list,” he began slowly, quietly, “of everything I know about myself.” 

Hunter was quiet at this, and he wrote down ‘dislikes chocolate’ at the bottom of the list while he waited. After a few moments, when Hunter seemed to realize he wasn’t going to be more forthcoming, probably, Hunter said, “What have you got so far?” 

He passed Hunter the short list. Fiddling with the pen in his hand, he went over the contents of the list in his own head while Hunter read it. 

Asian-American, attacked, hostile, lacks manners, ambidextrous, glasses, dislikes chocolate. It was a very short list. 

He heard Hunter guffaw at it once, but he passed it back to him a moment later. “How long you been working on it?” 

He sighed. “All day.” 

Hunter seemed to contemplate this. Then, suddenly, “Hey, what should I call you?” 

He looked up at Hunter questioningly. “What?” 

Hunter hesitated. “Well, I know we don’t know your name but, should I call you John? Or anything?” 

He frowned, studying Hunter’s face. Was he being serious? Like his name wasn’t the one thing he had been trying to place all day, and this list was all he’d come up with. Did Hunter think he was being funny? 

No, he decided, staring at Hunter’s genuine look. He wasn’t teasing, and it shouldn’t make him mad. But it did. 

“Gee, I don’t know, what would you like to call me?” He snapped, annoyed. “My name isn’t John.” 

Hunter sat back a little bit. “Hey, I was just wondering.” He held up his hands in defense. “Maybe we could go through a name book, or something, see what sounds familiar?” 

That wasn’t a terrible idea, he thought. But there was no guarantee he would know his name if he heard it spoken, even if it came out of Hunter’s over eager mouth, and what if he picked something wrong and then remembered his real name later? He wasn’t sure he wanted to take the chance. “Let’s talk about something else.” He insisted instead. 

Hunter nodded, contemplating the list again. “Okay… What kind of questions did the doctors ask you?” 

He scowled again. “Ones I couldn’t answer.” 

Hunter pursed his lips, looking pensive. “Hmmm. What about your favorite food?” He prodded. “Answer correctly and I’ll sneak it in here for you.” 

He knew it was meant to be teasing. He did. But it also infuriated him, because how would he or Hunter know if he answered correctly? It didn’t matter what he said, because he was guessing. It was all guesswork, and he was lost in his own head, he couldn’t be sure of anything. “I think you should go.” He said, and he tore to list off and crumpled it up. He sent it flying across the room angrily, and then he buried his face in his hands. 

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Hunter said quickly, but he cut him off. 

“Just go!” He shouted, wanting more than anything to have Hunter shout back at him, yell at him, get as annoyed with him as he was with himself. 

Hunter just looked sad, though, as he stood and headed out of the room. He almost called out to him, to this tall, blonde man who had saved his life and was now his only friend, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Hunter closed the door behind him. After a moment of silence, he let out a muffled yell into his hands, and then sighed heavily. 

He thought again to his list, now lying crumpled on the floor. Friendless, he thought, should be the next addition. Lonely. Depressed. Self-loathing. Could you loath yourself if you didn’t know who you were, he wondered? 

He went for the pad in his lap to put it on the table, but he stopped when he saw the large scrawl on the page. Hunter. When he had taken the pad from him earlier, to test his vision, he had written out his name. 

He ran his fingers over it, and picked up the pen. He traced over the letters, making them darker and larger, and tried to think of nothing but Hunter’s name. 

~***~

Hunter biffed it on the third turn of his last lap and twisted his rear wheel, which sent him flying and put his bike out of commission. When he had picked himself up off the ground, he hauled his bike up and started trudging it back to his dad’s truck, where his dad and Blake were waiting. 

“Wicked wipeout, bro,” Blake sympathized, helping Hunter haul his bike into the truck. He wouldn’t be able to ride it for weeks now, at least not until he had undone the damage he’d just inflicted. 

His dad was giving him a curious look. “Everything okay, son?” 

Hunter shrugged, pulling off his riding gloves and taking off his dark red padding. “I just got distracted on the turn, that’s all.” 

Distracted. Sure. Aggravated. Disappointed. Feeling slightly guilty with no real reason to. Accepting his dad’s invitation to go to the motocross track when he got home from the hospital had seemed like a good way to blow off steam, but he knew better than to ride when he was that upset and he did it anyway. It would cost him. 

He wondered about the man in the hospital, and how he was doing. If he’d learned anything else about himself, or if he was still there, alone, and stressed out. 

Hunter didn’t think he should go back, not with the way he seemed to upset the guy. He’d only been trying to help, really, but everything he did seemed to backfire and make the guy’s mood worse. Hunter felt bad, which was a letdown after feeling so excited and relieved this morning. He’d felt, for a little while, like the universe had handed him a purpose on a silver platter, like he’d been asking for something to occupy his time and then suddenly been given it in the form of an injured man with no memory. 

He felt stupid for even thinking it now. It sounded selfish, and Hunter didn’t like to admit that his interest in the young man had been less about him and more about Hunter. 

Whatever his reasons, he wasn’t going to go back again. He would just let it drop, and hope that everything worked out for the guy. Maybe, if he ever figured out who he was, he’d look Hunter up then, or something. 

Still he wondered, though. What was the guy’s name? He’d tried a hundred in his head while he’d ridden around the track. Carter? Austin? David? Juan? Perry? None of them seemed to fit the man in the hospital bed with no name. 

“Alright, we’re loaded,” Charlie called as he got into the truck. Hunter climbed into the truck bed and leaned low against the bad window, Blake having called shotgun earlier. He tapped the window, and they left the track behind. 

When they got home, Krista was making dinner and his mom was wearing her reading glasses and looking at something on the computer. With annoyance, Hunter thought again of the glasses he had given to the man in the hospital, and then tried to push it from his mind. 

“Smells delicious!” Blake stole some of whatever Krista was making, and she swatted his hand with a spatula. 

“Don’t you think about anything but food?” She wanted to know, half amused, half indignant. Hunter was sitting down at the table when Krista called over her shoulder to him. “Hunter, you have a message.” 

“Wha?” Hunter asked, stripping off his muddy boots. “From who?” 

“Some doctor? Called about an hour ago.” She said, and Hunter jumped up to the house phone, next to which was a bright pink sticky note. 

Had something happened? Why would Dr. Huang be trying to call him? What if it was something terrible? 

The note simply read:

_“Hunter -_

_“He remembered his name. It’s Cam.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, no. Blake doesn't think about anything but food in this story. ;)


End file.
